Innocent Hostage (15 page)
Breck propped his squirming son on one arm and gathered Ingrid close with the other. “There,” he said as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “Now we’re all together again.”
Ingrid’s insecurity disappeared into oblivion. Trying to swallow unshed tears, she leaned across Breck and pecked Kit’s cheek. He laughed and made exaggerated smacking sounds with his lips.
“What about me?” Breck asked indignantly. His arm pressed her closer.
His tone held just a touch of anxiety, enough to give her confidence. She looked into the clear grey eyes and smiled. And kissed him on the cheek lavishly, smacking her lips for Kit’s benefit.
Kit and Breck grinned twin grins and behind them Ms. Ellis cleared her throat. “Ah, I’ll be on my way now.”
They turned and stared at her. For a moment they had all forgotten her.
“Thank you, Ann.”
When had Ms. Ellis become Ann? Ingrid watched as Breck held out his hand. “Will you be offended if I say we hope never to need your services again?”
Ann Ellis threw back her head and laughed. Then she fingered a hank of hair back behind her ear. No doubt about it, Ingrid thought. She wasn’t the only one feeling the pull of the Marchant men.
As they headed back to the SUV, Kit talked and talked and talked. He must have bottled the words up and now they came rushing out, stumbling over each other. Ingrid smiled at Breck over the top of Kit’s head and he gave her his slow, rare smile back. Ingrid slid painlessly into Level Four.
As they drew up outside Breck’s apartment he asked, “Do you want to go straight on to the preschool?”
No. She didn’t. She wanted to stay here with Breck and Kit, but especially with Breck. “I’d better go soon,” she said. “It’s not that the place will fall apart without me, but today is the day the new unit kicks in.”
“Unit?”
“Just means topic. We work in four-week units. Today is the beginning of ‘all about firemen.’”
Breck wiggled his eyebrows. “Ah, I understand your eagerness. I know how women feel about firemen.”
Grinning, she said, “It’s true there are some very well-built firemen at the local firehouse. They come and give talks to the children a couple of times a year. I’m always happy to welcome them.”
“Uh, huh. Got one of their calendars, have you?”
She felt the heat spreading over her face and neck.
Breck laughed. “No need to answer that.”
She was enjoying the banter. It had been a long time since she’d had someone to laugh with, someone who was on the same wavelength.
“Do you want to go to preschool, buddy?” Breck asked Kit.
“Yes. Got nothing to eat though, Dad.”
Breck cast his eyes up. “You’ve got hollow legs, boy.”
Ten minutes later, Ingrid strapped Kit into the car seat in the Fiesta and waved goodbye to Breck. If she were a sentimental woman, she’d say it was almost like being a family.
Chapter Fifteen
“Kit, do you know where Uncle Billy lives?”
“Uncle Billy?”
Kit was doing his usual blocking, pretending to forget everything that had transpired while he lived with the Kerrs.
Breck was curious about Marty Kerr’s elusive brother. There were a zillion W. Kerrs in the phone book and on the internet. It was a time-consuming search since at some numbers he was unable to raise anyone the first time through. He made a thorough job of it and went back over those numbers. No joy. Assuming that Billy was not short for William but was simply Billy, he’d begun contacting all the B. Kerrs he could find. In the end there was only one possible lead, and it was a tenuous one. An abrupt, uninformative message was left on an answer phone at one of the numbers. “Billy’s away right now. Phone back.” Not exactly chummy. But the Kerrs were not a chummy bunch anyway.
He glanced at his watch. He had no more time to waste on the search right now.
He thrust his feet into his boots and grabbed his cell phone off the table.
This morning he had an appointment to talk to Harley Max about his career. Ingrid had continued to nag him about joining the detective division. Breck was still hesitant, knowing that Max would not be impressed with one of his operatives jumping ship to work for what he saw as the other side. But he had to try this option. His other options were to take demotion or quit the police altogether and end up as a security guard on half his present pay with no prospects and no job satisfaction.
He wandered over to the mirror. Looked okay. Max had a bit of a thing for spit and polish. He hoped to God Harley Max couldn’t tell how shit-scared he was. His future was on the line and he didn’t have anyone else to turn to for advice. Plenty of PTSD therapy, plenty of nights out with the guys. But the professional careers advisers were at Central, and he wasn’t going there. Didn’t know a soul over there. They’d probably have him for lunch.
Making sure Kit had his backpack, Breck checked his tie one more time.
****
“You were quick off the mark, Marchant.”
Breck looked blankly at his boss. “In what way, sir?” Breck didn’t think he was quick off the mark. Deliberate and plodding, yes. Quick off the mark, no.
“You haven’t heard yet, have you?” Max’s shrewd brown eyes examined Breck’s face. “Guess your phone is turned off.”
Well of course it was. He wasn’t about to go into a career-making or breaking interview with a live cell phone. “About…?”
“About your old friend, Marty Kerr.”
Oh, God. Don’t say Marty’s appeal had been successful. He waited, since Max looked as though he was dying to spread the news.
“Found knifed in his cell.”
“Holy shit!”
“Pretty much what I said when the prison phoned. Kerr was such an unimportant character that it’s got us all scratching our heads. Didn’t get someone to off him, did you?” Max grinned.
Breck groaned. “God, I suppose I’ll get another visit from Moffat.”
“No, but you
will
be interviewed. You know as well as I do that we have to check every connection of Kerr’s.”
“Of course, but I hope nobody imagines I’d have him bumped. Why, for heaven’s sake?”
“Revenge?”
“Crap. Keeping Kit on an even keel is much more important to me than revenge.” Breck felt his color rise as his temper got the better of him. “God, I wish I could get the bloody Kerrs off my back permanently.”
“Well, one’s gone.”
“No, I didn’t mean—look, you don’t know what’s been happening.” Normally Breck would not pour his heart out to a superior officer, but he’d about had enough. Enough of the Kerrs. Enough of officials who wanted to make his life a misery. Enough of teetering on a knife-edge of uncertainty about his future.
To his embarrassment, out it all spewed. He described the fall-out from Marty’s short-lived siege including the attack on him and Kit. He told Max about Tania’s shameful secret that had taken him so long to discover; he told Max of his suspicion that Tania was not missing at all but had chosen to disappear; and he admitted his concerns over his parents’ role in the whole mess.
When he got to where he’d had to fight to get Kit out of the hands of Child Protection, Harley Max straightened in his chair. “Christ, Marchant! You should have come to see me.” He shook his head.
What did that mean? That Max would have jettisoned him off the AOS straight away? Probably. Max’s enigmatic stare as he sized Breck up didn’t help any. Being a security guard was beginning to look like a viable alternative. With his police background he should be able to do bodyguard work or bank work or…
“Wakey wakey.” Max interrupted his frantic thoughts.
“Sorry. Just wondering about security guarding.”
“
Security guarding
? What the fuck…? Are you nuts?”
Breck shrugged. “That’s all I’m left with. I came to talk to you about applying for the detective division, but if I’m under suspicion over Marty Kerr, I may as well bury that idea. Plus I can’t be much of a cop if it took me a couple of years to realize that my wife had a nice little blackmail business going.”
Max’s bushy eyebrows twitched at the words ‘detective division.’ “You’re not under suspicion. You’re a good cop, one of the best we have, and we’ll make damn sure you get through this with as little fuss as possible. As for your wife, you’ve done what you can to disassociate yourself from her activities. That’s all that can be expected of any man in that position.” Max examined Breck’s face. “From what you said, you’re finding this solo parent thing a bit rough. What are you going to do about it?”
He’d never get a better opening. Breck settled himself in his chair and launched into his reasons for requesting the interview.
“A
detective
?” Max roared. “What the hell put that maggot into your head, boy?”
“Sir, it would mean job security and it’d be interesting and…well, I mightn’t pass the exams anyway.”
Max snorted. “Of course you’d pass the exams. Piece of piss.”
Breck shook his head. “It’d be a struggle for me. But someone has offered to help me and I can’t pass up the opportunity.” He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He hadn’t intended to say so much, but he’d rather talk to Harley Max than anyone else. At least Max was always fair.
The phone on Max’s desk rang and he stretched out a hand and silenced it, still looking at Breck. Then he swiveled around in his chair and opened up a file on his computer.
For a second, Breck was peeved that his boss was attending to him with only half an ear, and then he realized that Max was recording Breck’s words. Hell!
“You said you thought your ex-wife had been back to the house. What made you think so?”
“Her perfume. It was everywhere. This was four weeks after she disappeared. I’d have thought it would have dissipated by then.” Breck wrinkled his nose. “Mind you, it’s pretty powerful. Also, I saw a male and female driving away and it
might
have been Tania. But I’m not sure. The woman was hunkered down in the car seat. Anyway, the numberplate was AC2431. Raker has the details.”
Max opened another window on his computer and tapped away some more. “Seems to me, the key to this thing is something between Marty and Tania Kerr. And now Kerr’s dead.” Max gazed at the wall for a moment, lost in thought. Then he straightened up. “What does Raker think about it?”
Breck shook his head. “Not sure. He’s guarded and he’s very, very astute.”
Max grunted. “The way I see it, we need to look further into Kerr’s life, maybe into little nooks and crannies we never peered into before. Because you’re implicated, you’ll have to be sidelined. I think Moffat’s replacement is Detective Sergeant Tony Hull.” He turned back to his desk phone and pressed a couple of numbers. Then he switched on speaker-phone so Breck could hear the conversation.
“Hull? Are you heading up to the prison shortly? I’ve got Breck Marchant with me and there have been a lot of unusual things happening to him lately. Possibly related to Marty Kerr. Come and talk to us before you go any further.”
“Good! I was hoping to talk to him.”
At least Breck thought that was what Tony Hull said. Max had the speaker-phone turned up so loud that Hull sounded like a seal coughing and exhaling. A scratching sound came from the phone then Hull continued, “Give me ten, sir. Be there soon.”
“Yeah. Don’t spend all day on that coffee.”
Hull replied with a muffled snort and hung up.
Harley Max grinned. “You’ll like him, Breck. Calm like you but with a more outgoing personality.”
Talk about the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. First Max had called him by his first name and everyone knew he only did that to his inner circle. Then he pretty much intimated that Breck had a dull personality. Great. “Before he comes, sir—do you think I’d be any good as a detective? I mean…I’m not giving my best to the AOS at the moment and—”
A tap sounded on the door and D.S. Hull walked in. He was incredibly tall and lanky. A basketball player for sure. He lounged into the room, held out a hand to Breck and muttered, “Tony Hull,” then flung himself down on the only available chair.
So much for ten minutes to discuss Breck’s future. His career plans would have to wait.
Max and Breck hit the high points and Detective Sergeant Hull listened. Then he asked a couple of questions and listened some more.
Beck wondered what was going on behind those intelligent green eyes.
Hull pulled out an iPad and consulted his notes. “What was that numberplate again?” he asked, without looking up.
“AC2431.” Breck rattled it off.
That had Hull looking up. “You wrote it down?”
“No. But I checked it out. It belongs to a little old lady named Albertine Reynolds. It’s registered to her Mini.”
“You’ve been busy. Certain about the number?” Hull asked.
Breck nodded.
Hull looked at him thoughtfully. “You one of those people who remembers details?”
Breck nodded again. Natasha had taught him how to compensate for his lack of reading skills. His parents had no idea that their cleaning lady had been a remedial teacher in her native Russia. To them she was just “the cleaner.” Even now Breck still used some of Natasha’s tricks to remember names and numbers. God, he missed her. Her jolly laugh and how she’d turned hard work into a game.
Ingrid’s insecurity disappeared into oblivion. Trying to swallow unshed tears, she leaned across Breck and pecked Kit’s cheek. He laughed and made exaggerated smacking sounds with his lips.
“What about me?” Breck asked indignantly. His arm pressed her closer.
His tone held just a touch of anxiety, enough to give her confidence. She looked into the clear grey eyes and smiled. And kissed him on the cheek lavishly, smacking her lips for Kit’s benefit.
Kit and Breck grinned twin grins and behind them Ms. Ellis cleared her throat. “Ah, I’ll be on my way now.”
They turned and stared at her. For a moment they had all forgotten her.
“Thank you, Ann.”
When had Ms. Ellis become Ann? Ingrid watched as Breck held out his hand. “Will you be offended if I say we hope never to need your services again?”
Ann Ellis threw back her head and laughed. Then she fingered a hank of hair back behind her ear. No doubt about it, Ingrid thought. She wasn’t the only one feeling the pull of the Marchant men.
As they headed back to the SUV, Kit talked and talked and talked. He must have bottled the words up and now they came rushing out, stumbling over each other. Ingrid smiled at Breck over the top of Kit’s head and he gave her his slow, rare smile back. Ingrid slid painlessly into Level Four.
As they drew up outside Breck’s apartment he asked, “Do you want to go straight on to the preschool?”
No. She didn’t. She wanted to stay here with Breck and Kit, but especially with Breck. “I’d better go soon,” she said. “It’s not that the place will fall apart without me, but today is the day the new unit kicks in.”
“Unit?”
“Just means topic. We work in four-week units. Today is the beginning of ‘all about firemen.’”
Breck wiggled his eyebrows. “Ah, I understand your eagerness. I know how women feel about firemen.”
Grinning, she said, “It’s true there are some very well-built firemen at the local firehouse. They come and give talks to the children a couple of times a year. I’m always happy to welcome them.”
“Uh, huh. Got one of their calendars, have you?”
She felt the heat spreading over her face and neck.
Breck laughed. “No need to answer that.”
She was enjoying the banter. It had been a long time since she’d had someone to laugh with, someone who was on the same wavelength.
“Do you want to go to preschool, buddy?” Breck asked Kit.
“Yes. Got nothing to eat though, Dad.”
Breck cast his eyes up. “You’ve got hollow legs, boy.”
Ten minutes later, Ingrid strapped Kit into the car seat in the Fiesta and waved goodbye to Breck. If she were a sentimental woman, she’d say it was almost like being a family.
Chapter Fifteen
“Kit, do you know where Uncle Billy lives?”
“Uncle Billy?”
Kit was doing his usual blocking, pretending to forget everything that had transpired while he lived with the Kerrs.
Breck was curious about Marty Kerr’s elusive brother. There were a zillion W. Kerrs in the phone book and on the internet. It was a time-consuming search since at some numbers he was unable to raise anyone the first time through. He made a thorough job of it and went back over those numbers. No joy. Assuming that Billy was not short for William but was simply Billy, he’d begun contacting all the B. Kerrs he could find. In the end there was only one possible lead, and it was a tenuous one. An abrupt, uninformative message was left on an answer phone at one of the numbers. “Billy’s away right now. Phone back.” Not exactly chummy. But the Kerrs were not a chummy bunch anyway.
He glanced at his watch. He had no more time to waste on the search right now.
He thrust his feet into his boots and grabbed his cell phone off the table.
This morning he had an appointment to talk to Harley Max about his career. Ingrid had continued to nag him about joining the detective division. Breck was still hesitant, knowing that Max would not be impressed with one of his operatives jumping ship to work for what he saw as the other side. But he had to try this option. His other options were to take demotion or quit the police altogether and end up as a security guard on half his present pay with no prospects and no job satisfaction.
He wandered over to the mirror. Looked okay. Max had a bit of a thing for spit and polish. He hoped to God Harley Max couldn’t tell how shit-scared he was. His future was on the line and he didn’t have anyone else to turn to for advice. Plenty of PTSD therapy, plenty of nights out with the guys. But the professional careers advisers were at Central, and he wasn’t going there. Didn’t know a soul over there. They’d probably have him for lunch.
Making sure Kit had his backpack, Breck checked his tie one more time.
****
“You were quick off the mark, Marchant.”
Breck looked blankly at his boss. “In what way, sir?” Breck didn’t think he was quick off the mark. Deliberate and plodding, yes. Quick off the mark, no.
“You haven’t heard yet, have you?” Max’s shrewd brown eyes examined Breck’s face. “Guess your phone is turned off.”
Well of course it was. He wasn’t about to go into a career-making or breaking interview with a live cell phone. “About…?”
“About your old friend, Marty Kerr.”
Oh, God. Don’t say Marty’s appeal had been successful. He waited, since Max looked as though he was dying to spread the news.
“Found knifed in his cell.”
“Holy shit!”
“Pretty much what I said when the prison phoned. Kerr was such an unimportant character that it’s got us all scratching our heads. Didn’t get someone to off him, did you?” Max grinned.
Breck groaned. “God, I suppose I’ll get another visit from Moffat.”
“No, but you
will
be interviewed. You know as well as I do that we have to check every connection of Kerr’s.”
“Of course, but I hope nobody imagines I’d have him bumped. Why, for heaven’s sake?”
“Revenge?”
“Crap. Keeping Kit on an even keel is much more important to me than revenge.” Breck felt his color rise as his temper got the better of him. “God, I wish I could get the bloody Kerrs off my back permanently.”
“Well, one’s gone.”
“No, I didn’t mean—look, you don’t know what’s been happening.” Normally Breck would not pour his heart out to a superior officer, but he’d about had enough. Enough of the Kerrs. Enough of officials who wanted to make his life a misery. Enough of teetering on a knife-edge of uncertainty about his future.
To his embarrassment, out it all spewed. He described the fall-out from Marty’s short-lived siege including the attack on him and Kit. He told Max about Tania’s shameful secret that had taken him so long to discover; he told Max of his suspicion that Tania was not missing at all but had chosen to disappear; and he admitted his concerns over his parents’ role in the whole mess.
When he got to where he’d had to fight to get Kit out of the hands of Child Protection, Harley Max straightened in his chair. “Christ, Marchant! You should have come to see me.” He shook his head.
What did that mean? That Max would have jettisoned him off the AOS straight away? Probably. Max’s enigmatic stare as he sized Breck up didn’t help any. Being a security guard was beginning to look like a viable alternative. With his police background he should be able to do bodyguard work or bank work or…
“Wakey wakey.” Max interrupted his frantic thoughts.
“Sorry. Just wondering about security guarding.”
“
Security guarding
? What the fuck…? Are you nuts?”
Breck shrugged. “That’s all I’m left with. I came to talk to you about applying for the detective division, but if I’m under suspicion over Marty Kerr, I may as well bury that idea. Plus I can’t be much of a cop if it took me a couple of years to realize that my wife had a nice little blackmail business going.”
Max’s bushy eyebrows twitched at the words ‘detective division.’ “You’re not under suspicion. You’re a good cop, one of the best we have, and we’ll make damn sure you get through this with as little fuss as possible. As for your wife, you’ve done what you can to disassociate yourself from her activities. That’s all that can be expected of any man in that position.” Max examined Breck’s face. “From what you said, you’re finding this solo parent thing a bit rough. What are you going to do about it?”
He’d never get a better opening. Breck settled himself in his chair and launched into his reasons for requesting the interview.
“A
detective
?” Max roared. “What the hell put that maggot into your head, boy?”
“Sir, it would mean job security and it’d be interesting and…well, I mightn’t pass the exams anyway.”
Max snorted. “Of course you’d pass the exams. Piece of piss.”
Breck shook his head. “It’d be a struggle for me. But someone has offered to help me and I can’t pass up the opportunity.” He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He hadn’t intended to say so much, but he’d rather talk to Harley Max than anyone else. At least Max was always fair.
The phone on Max’s desk rang and he stretched out a hand and silenced it, still looking at Breck. Then he swiveled around in his chair and opened up a file on his computer.
For a second, Breck was peeved that his boss was attending to him with only half an ear, and then he realized that Max was recording Breck’s words. Hell!
“You said you thought your ex-wife had been back to the house. What made you think so?”
“Her perfume. It was everywhere. This was four weeks after she disappeared. I’d have thought it would have dissipated by then.” Breck wrinkled his nose. “Mind you, it’s pretty powerful. Also, I saw a male and female driving away and it
might
have been Tania. But I’m not sure. The woman was hunkered down in the car seat. Anyway, the numberplate was AC2431. Raker has the details.”
Max opened another window on his computer and tapped away some more. “Seems to me, the key to this thing is something between Marty and Tania Kerr. And now Kerr’s dead.” Max gazed at the wall for a moment, lost in thought. Then he straightened up. “What does Raker think about it?”
Breck shook his head. “Not sure. He’s guarded and he’s very, very astute.”
Max grunted. “The way I see it, we need to look further into Kerr’s life, maybe into little nooks and crannies we never peered into before. Because you’re implicated, you’ll have to be sidelined. I think Moffat’s replacement is Detective Sergeant Tony Hull.” He turned back to his desk phone and pressed a couple of numbers. Then he switched on speaker-phone so Breck could hear the conversation.
“Hull? Are you heading up to the prison shortly? I’ve got Breck Marchant with me and there have been a lot of unusual things happening to him lately. Possibly related to Marty Kerr. Come and talk to us before you go any further.”
“Good! I was hoping to talk to him.”
At least Breck thought that was what Tony Hull said. Max had the speaker-phone turned up so loud that Hull sounded like a seal coughing and exhaling. A scratching sound came from the phone then Hull continued, “Give me ten, sir. Be there soon.”
“Yeah. Don’t spend all day on that coffee.”
Hull replied with a muffled snort and hung up.
Harley Max grinned. “You’ll like him, Breck. Calm like you but with a more outgoing personality.”
Talk about the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. First Max had called him by his first name and everyone knew he only did that to his inner circle. Then he pretty much intimated that Breck had a dull personality. Great. “Before he comes, sir—do you think I’d be any good as a detective? I mean…I’m not giving my best to the AOS at the moment and—”
A tap sounded on the door and D.S. Hull walked in. He was incredibly tall and lanky. A basketball player for sure. He lounged into the room, held out a hand to Breck and muttered, “Tony Hull,” then flung himself down on the only available chair.
So much for ten minutes to discuss Breck’s future. His career plans would have to wait.
Max and Breck hit the high points and Detective Sergeant Hull listened. Then he asked a couple of questions and listened some more.
Beck wondered what was going on behind those intelligent green eyes.
Hull pulled out an iPad and consulted his notes. “What was that numberplate again?” he asked, without looking up.
“AC2431.” Breck rattled it off.
That had Hull looking up. “You wrote it down?”
“No. But I checked it out. It belongs to a little old lady named Albertine Reynolds. It’s registered to her Mini.”
“You’ve been busy. Certain about the number?” Hull asked.
Breck nodded.
Hull looked at him thoughtfully. “You one of those people who remembers details?”
Breck nodded again. Natasha had taught him how to compensate for his lack of reading skills. His parents had no idea that their cleaning lady had been a remedial teacher in her native Russia. To them she was just “the cleaner.” Even now Breck still used some of Natasha’s tricks to remember names and numbers. God, he missed her. Her jolly laugh and how she’d turned hard work into a game.
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